


Those Who Wander

by larxenethefirefly



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Reunion!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larxenethefirefly/pseuds/larxenethefirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought that this time I was right. Last time I saw you I thought I was just too early in history, but… I’m too late, aren’t I?” 11/Rose, reunion!fic, of a sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isilien_Elenihin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilien_Elenihin/gifts).



> This story was prompted by isilienelenihin on LJ with the following lines:
> 
> 11/Rose
> 
> The Last Centurion wasn't alone for those two thousand years he spent guarding the Pandorica. Sometimes there was a girl, a blonde girl with eyes like a wolf and a smile like the sunrise. "We're both of us waiting," she told him the third time they met.  
> "Who are you waiting for?" he asked, although he thought he might already know.  
> "The stuff of legend," she replied.
> 
>  
> 
> Another prompt to be used in conjunction with the first or perhaps by itself: (Also 11/Rose, although who exactly 'he' is, is of course optional) :D
> 
> "What did it feel like, being lost?" he asked.  
> "It felt like dying," she said after a while. "And then I discovered something."  
> "What?"  
> She gave him -that- smile, the one that made him feel like he could do anything if only she'd keep looking at him like that. "I discovered there is life after death."
> 
> /end
> 
> This was my first time writing Rory, so please be nice!!

There were marks on the wall, even scratches that marked the passing of days. It sprawled along the pillars, winding their way up and down as high as the marker could reach, then continued on the walls in varying sizes and angles as their creator grew more hasty or more resigned. They numbered in the hundreds, perhaps thousands, and for all that they marked the days, Rory didn’t even know what day it was, let alone if it even mattered.

Thousands of days alone; thousands of sunsets died and forgotten; thousands of hopes quietly recorded and buried.

Not once had he dreamed of leaving his post.

He had been warned that the days would be long, lonely, madness lurking in the shadows, but Rory held fast that this was something he had to do. The box that held his wife stood unchanging in the center, impervious to dust or stone (he had spent an entire day throwing heavier and heavier rocks at it to test its durability; not one scratch marred its surface), so he stood unflinching at his post. That didn’t mean he grew bored. There were times where he wished for just something to talk to, another person, another animal, he would even settle for one of those volleyballs from that one American movie some of his university mates had forced him to watch once. Just anything to prove that time was changing, marching on, getting just one day closer to when he could open the blasted thing.

When the marks took over the pillars and the entire right wall, Rory finally ventured out onto Stonehenge. Maybe something out there would help him with the passing of time, beyond the play of shadows and light from the small air shafts in the chambers beyond the Pandorica.

Outside, nothing seemed different. It was spring, if the balmy weather was anything to go by, the grass tall and green and the sky blue, and for one thrilling moment it felt so good to just breathe fresh air again; but he was all too quickly reminded that he was the only soul about.

That, more than anything, made the loneliness sink in.

“Time doesn’t wait nor hurry for no man, does it?” he asked, to no one in particular. His voice, used after so many days of silence, was a bit of a shock. Did he really sound like that?

“Time makes its own way,” A voice said from behind him.

Rory whirled around, and saw a woman perched on a fallen stone. Her honey-blonde hair fell in loose waves, golden eyes bright and animal-like, lips curled in a lupine smile. But what caught his attention were her clothes; they were leather and denim, clothes from his time, so out of place with this seemingly untouched bit of land.

“Who are you?” He asked, sword pointed in her direction.

Gold-flecked eyes flashed, muscles coiled and flowed, and the woman was soon walking away without a backwards glance. “A remnant,” the wind seemed to sigh for her, “Of a time long past.”

A remnant, he thought. Just like him; a remnant of things lost and yet to happen, out of time and not completely understood.

When she showed no sign of returning, Rory went back to the Pandorica, laid his sword out in easy reach, and said, “I saw a woman today, Amy. A woman from our own time. Imagine that, with all of history collapsing, a woman from our own time…”

It soon became ritual, describing his day to Amy. Though most of the time there wasn’t much to tell (“I actually saw a deer today, though it didn’t come near the ruins…” “Remember that day we went on that picnic, and we spent three hours just making shapes out of clouds? You laughed at me because I insisted that one cloud was a cat, and you said it was a lion, and we spent the rest of the time arguing over the differences?”), it beat back the overwhelming silence, and he found it staved off the madness, just a little bit.

He realized why the Doctor always had people around. Not because he wanted to gloat (Well, maybe that was a little reason), but because without people in that giant, echoing machine he would have gone mad. Rory knew that the Doctor was always on the edge of madness, constantly rode the razor’s edge between light and dark, was so easily tipped over to the shadows and not very easily brought back from them.

Another month or three had passed when Rory saw the woman again. This time it was night, and she was perched on top of the structure looking at the sky, knees drawn to her chest and arms wrapped tightly around her like a shield. Afraid that he would scare her and send her falling, Rory made a few soft sounds to let her know he was there.

“How’d you get up there?” he asked.

“I jumped,” she replied, thought he couldn’t tell if it was meant to be sarcastic. Then,  
“The stars are out.”

“Yeah. History is being erased. Pretty soon, we’ll be gone, as well.” Unless the Doctor fixed it. Rory wasn’t really sure it was possible.

The woman sighed, the cool summer night breezes seeming to apologize as they brushed her hair. “I thought that this time I was right. Last time I saw you I thought I was just too early in history, but… I’m too late, aren’t I?”

He squinted at her in confusion. “I don’t understand. Late for what?”

She peered over her shoulder at him, and though her eyes seemed to glow, he just got an overall feeling of sadness radiating off of her. He wasn’t a ladies’ man, but the look didn’t fit her; she should have been smiling. She had a face built for smiling. Like Amy had hair to match her personality, like the Doctor had a youthful face and energy to hide his old, weary spirit. The small, almost bitter smile she produced didn’t fit. “Doesn’t matter. I suppose it means I’ll get there eventually, but right now… I’m just so tired.”

Rory was silent for a moment. There was something about this woman that caused his instincts to go all shivery, like he was being stalked by a wolf in a dark forest at night (and his red cape certainly didn’t help). But he was a nurse, and it was his job to make people better. Not quite a doctor or even a Doctor, but nurses did all the hard work doctors couldn’t be bothered with. She certainly seemed like she needed help, and maybe a willing ear was all that was required.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nah.” She was staring up at the sky again. “Just promise me something.”

“What?”

“Bring back the stars. People need the stars; gives ‘em hope. I’ll do everything I can from my end, but I need you here.”

He looked up at the unnatural blackness as well. It seemed like an impossible task; bring back the stars, stop all history from ending, break Amy out of the Pandorica. He wanted to tell her that he was just an ordinary man who just so happened to be somewhat friends with the only man who could do all that, but seemed to have disappeared, armed only with a mop and a fez. He didn’t even have his screwdriver yet. But if this woman needed hope, who was he to deny her? “Yeah. Think I can do that.”

He was already waiting centuries for Amy to be back; maybe he could figure something out in that time. After all, he had plenty of it.

When he looked back over, she was gone.

“Amy,” he said when he finally went back down. “Get your thinking cap on. Doctor or no Doctor, I’m going to figure this out. The stars are going to come back, and even if it takes me two thousand more years, I’ll find a way to do it….”

It was another two years before he saw the woman again. At least, as close to two years as he could put it. The marks on the wall claimed it had been two years, and he had even added a day in case it was a leap year. He had spent the day exploring the area, Stonehenge always in sight, hand-laser open and ready in case something more hostile lurked in the tall grasses. The only thing found was a rabbit, and had shot the animal with his laser before it could run (target practice, although he felt sick just thinking about it). Being plastic had its advantages; he didn’t need food or water except if he wanted to, and he didn’t age a day, but nothing beat a good home-cooked meal. His time in the Roman army had at least taught him basic survival skills, and he was roasting the rabbit over a small campfire when she appeared on the fringes of Stonehenge. He waved, and she stepped closer, sighing.

“That smells wonderful,” she said. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper meal.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “I don’t really need it.”

She eyed him, as if wondering if he was serious, then shrugged and divided the rabbit in half. They ate in silence, and when they were through he asked, “Find what you were looking for?”

“Not yet,” She replied, chewing on her lip. “But I’m getting closer. I can feel it… like a song that you can half-remember, and the words are coming back little by little.” Absently, she watched the flames dance. Her eyes seemed to absorb the fire’s color, glowing in the light, even more brilliantly than before. “I can’t help but think its right around the corner.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t help but think that, with every day that goes by, it’s one less day until I can see my wife again.”

“We’re both of us waiting,” She replied, her voice distant, as if she was anywhere but there.

“Who are you waiting for?”

She looked at him, really looked, and said, “The stuff of legend.”

The words sounded familiar to him, like it was a universal truth and one only had to dig a little deeper until they found it. “Sounds like a friend I know. At least, he would think so; chases after legends and secrets, while becoming one himself. It sounds like something he would be called.”

Her gaze sharpened, and something like hope blossomed across her face. “Your friend… what’s he called?”

Rory blinked. “The Doctor. Why…?”

The woman laughed, actually laughed, the sound filled with such joy that for a moment, Rory couldn’t help but think that everything would turn out alright. When she finished, her smile was like the sunrise, and he was right in thinking that she had a face built for smiling. “Rory Williams,” She breathed, “Thank you. I may not be waiting as long as I thought.”

She hugged him, actually hugged him, and Rory blushed. “Well, you’re welcome, though I don’t really know what I did.”

The woman laughed again, gave him another squeeze, and replied, “Everything will be fine now. Everything is… fantastic.”

And with a flash of lighting, she was gone.

It took Rory a while, after blinking away the spots and his returning smile had faded, that he realized he had never given her his name.

“Whoever you are,” he said, as the sun rose once more over empty plain and the warmth began to seep into him, “I hope you find what you were looking for.”

The wind had no reply, but Rory felt like it agreed with him. Thinking back on how she had lit up just by him mentioning the Doctor’s name, Rory knew that the mad alien would fix it. If that woman held such faith in him, if Amy held such faith in him, then the Doctor would figure out a way to save Amy and put history back on its proper path. All it would take was time, and patience.

He had both in spares.  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two. This can be read by itself, however.

He wondered if it was irony, some sick cosmic joke, or fate that she was, once again, there to witness his final goodbye.

His wayward companions hadn't returned yet; they were still running around getting shot at by the Dalek, blindly following his other (younger?) self and pretending that they would save him when the time came. Silly, really; didn't they know that he couldn't be saved, that his record was already so tainted that the universe felt it necessary to build him an inescapable prison so that he couldn't cause any more damage?

And yet here she was, standing before him, his golden angel.

"You're being noble again, aren't you?" she asked, as he staggered down the steps (rolled, more like). "Sacrificing yourself for the greater good, not caring that there are actually people who love you and want you to live."

He stared up at her, forcing his eyes to focus. "Better me than them."

She sighed but helped him up. "You've got to stop being so hard on yourself. I haven't come all this way to let you fail now."

"You still have a ways to go, yet," he grunted as she draped his arm over her shoulder. They set off down the hall at a stilted pace. "This isn't the me you're looking for."

"Dunno," she replied, smiling slightly. "But this is the you that needs me."

He couldn't really argue with that logic; he always needed her, always had. He just hadn't realized that it was she he was looking for until he found her. "For a little while, at least. Then you'll have to… well… it won't be good for you to see the newest lot, would it? It would be like Sarah Jane all over again," he replied. Reversed roles, of course, and River seemed like the kind to be jealous. He shuddered at the thought.

Rose's smile grew. "Don't worry; I won't bully the new kids. Though I have met the Roman; he told me about you, actually. I had to hop along his time stream a bit until it finally coincided with yours again. You had him waiting a long time." Her voice didn't sound accusatory. She knew about waiting, after all. Only she had decided that she had had enough of it and came back.

"The boy and girl who waited," he said. "It seemed fitting. They're married, you know, or going to be if I can fix this. Figured what's hers is his, decided that titles should be shared too."

"So, what? Am I the Oncoming Storm as well then?" At his look, she elaborated, "That time on Gretal, with Jack, remember? Stumbled upon that flower ceremony, thought it was some local thing, ended up tied together and forced to kiss over that lava pit while dangling fifty feet in the air?"

He had thought she didn't know the significance behind that. "Not official. Wasn't ever consummated." He felt himself blush a little at that, thoughts of Rose and naked and them together flashing through his mind. He would have been lying if he said he hadn't thought about it; he had thought about it all the time (still did). But he had taken the coward's way out, and look where it had landed them; trapped on other sides of a white wall, being left behind on a wind-swept, desolate beach. Not for the first time he wondered if the cowardice and his attempt to protect his hearts from the inevitable break was worth it.

She didn't seem to be phased by his answer. "Had the piece of paper… well… what passed as paper to prove it. Assuming you still have my room, it's under the mattress."

"Course I still have your room," he replied, wondering if he would even survive to be able to check if it was really there. "Why would I get rid of it?"

She didn't seem to have an answer, and the sudden appearance of the Pandorica, large and looming, provided an out. "You don't have to do this, you know," She said, quietly.

"Yes, I do."

Seconds passed into eternity as they both looked at the forbidding structure. He slipped his arm off her shoulders, took a few wobbling steps toward it, collapsed and hung on to the armrests as Rose said, suddenly, "It's just, I've been so lost without you. Every day, I would think, 'What would the Doctor do?' and realize that I never asked, 'What would I do?' You became my entire life, Doctor, changed me, and I was scared of the person I would have turned out to be without you there to guide me." She looked at him, and he realized that there was fear and determination in her eyes. "And now that I see you, I realize that I'm not lost anymore, and even though you aren't the right you, I can't… I can't leave you, Doctor."

He didn't know what to say. Was scared to speak, actually. It was so, so easy to insist that she stay here, to allow himself this one selfishness, say everything he never could have, before… but he couldn't. There were things that had to happen, and they hadn't even occurred to her yet.

History is already unweaving, a voice that sounded suspiciously Northern muttered in his mind. It's not like there's a risk of reapers at a time like this. Keep her to yourself, just a little longer.

"Can you help me up?" he asked instead, and Rose nodded and settled him in the chair.

With shaking hands he pulled out River's manipulator. Rose's eyes narrowed, but she didn't question him. Wordlessly, she did as he asked, and when the last wire was connected, she said, "I can hear her, you know. The TARDIS. Heard her as soon as I landed in this time. I know what's going on, Doctor, and I know what you're going to do." She hesitated, looking in his eyes; the amber flecks seemed to burn. "Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"

He nodded; there really wasn't anything else he could do. "Rose…" He hesitated.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me. What was it like, being lost for so long?"

"It felt like dying," she murmured, and he nodded. It had felt like that to him, too. Carefully, she cupped his face, and added, "But then I remembered something."

"What?"

She gave him that smile, the one that made him feel like he could do anything if only she'd keep looking at him like that. "I discovered there is life after death."

He laughed, a little breathlessly, a little desperately. "Rose Tyler, you always know just what to say." He paused; his energy was already running dangerously low, and he could feel the edges of fatigue creeping up on him. He had been running on adrenaline up to this point, high on seeing Rose one last time, high on a purpose. Now that Rose was almost gone and that purpose was about to be fulfilled, his body was shutting down. His free hand covered hers, and he leaned into her touch. "When you find him, remember something."

Rose's smile grew a bit watery, and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "Shouldn't you not be telling me this, foreknowledge and all that?"

He smiled and told her anyway.

"Promise me?" he asked, knowing she never broke her promises. Perhaps it was cheating, a bit, but he didn't care at this point. If his plan worked, one could hardly blame him for being selfish and making the universe a bit brighter, now could they? If it didn't, it wouldn't matter anyway, so no harm done. At least, not to anyone else. He wondered if it would hurt, not existing, or if he, too, would simply… disappear.

"I promise," she whispered. Giving him one last smile and squeezing his hand, she took a step back, blinking back tears. "I'll be seeing you, Doctor."

"Not if I see you first," he replied, forcing a smile. His vision was going black now.

He had already closed his eyes by the time she vanished. Only the ghost of pressure against his cheek and the faintest whiff of her shampoo remained to prove she had even existed.

~*~

After all was said and done, after the cake was cut and toast made and the children exhausted after dancing and sweets and being, well, children, the Doctor leaned against the doorway and watched Amy and Rory dance.

It had been interesting, being remade from memories, and he still tingled a bit from the experience. The TARDIS assured him all was as it was meant to be, that he and all his past lives were intact and doing as they should, and the universe was still spinning onwards, oblivious to its demise and subsequent rebirth. The Pandorica no longer existed- it had been the first thing he had checked- but the mystery behind his TARDIS exploding still had yet to be solved. Still, that could wait another day. Right now, he was intent on enjoying the moment.

A hand slipped into his. "Sorry I was late," a familiar voice murmured. "I had to take a cab."

A grin tugged at his lips, and he looked at the smiling blonde beside him. "Never late. Everyone else was just early." He nodded toward the newlyweds, still blissfully wrapped in each other's arms. "Let's say we let them have a quiet, proper honeymoon before we come back for them."

Rose smiled, and tugged him away. "Just like old times, eh?"

"The stuff of legend," he agreed.

Above them, the universe spun on, quiet for now. It could allow him this one peace before calling on him again, could allow for this small happiness. After all, it was high time that he was given something back.


End file.
